The village of Jiao lay nestled between two gentle hills, its rooftops barely visible through the morning mist. Unlike the flood-ravaged lands Yu had passed through, Jiao seemed untouched by chaos. The river here flowed softly, as if it too had grown weary of destruction. Plum trees lined the banks, their blossoms drifting like snowflakes onto the water's surface. It was a place that felt suspended in time—quiet, sacred, and strangely familiar.
Yu arrived with dust on his boots and calluses on his hands. His robes were worn, his shoulders heavy with years of labor. Yet the villagers did not greet him with suspicion or awe. They welcomed him with warm rice porridge and quiet smiles, as if they had been waiting for him all along. Word of his deeds had reached even this secluded corner of the realm. They called him "Yu the River-Walker," a man who listened to water and spoke to the land.
Among them was a girl who moved like mist and spoke like wind. Her name was Nü Jiao, and she was unlike anyone Yu had ever met.
She was the granddaughter of the village shaman, raised among scrolls of forgotten songs and rituals whispered by firelight. Her eyes held the calm of deep lakes, and her voice carried the rhythm of ancient chants. She wore a simple hanfu of pale blue, tied with a sash of woven reeds. Around her wrist hung a bamboo bracelet, carved with symbols Yu could not read but somehow understood.
Nü Jiao believed the river had a soul.
"It's not angry," she told Yu one evening as they sat by the water. "It's grieving."
Yu looked at her, puzzled. "Grieving for what?"
"For being misunderstood," she said. "For being treated like a beast instead of a guardian."
Yu had spent years studying the river's flow, its bends and depths. But he had never considered its emotions. Nü Jiao's words stirred something in him—a sense that perhaps the river's fury was not blind, but wounded.
She taught him songs passed down through generations. Melodies meant to soothe the spirits of water and wind. They sang together beneath the plum tree, their voices weaving through the branches like silk. Yu did not know if the river listened, but he felt its current slow, its surface shimmer with something more than moonlight.
Days turned into weeks. Yu helped the villagers dig new channels, redirecting the water to safer paths. He worked beside Nü Jiao, their hands often brushing as they passed tools or shared meals. In her presence, the weight of his mission felt lighter. He laughed more, slept deeper, dreamed of things beyond canals and maps.
One night, as stars scattered across the sky like spilled grain, Yu and Nü Jiao sat beneath the plum tree in silence. The river murmured beside them, its voice soft and steady.
"I must leave soon," Yu said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nü Jiao nodded, her gaze fixed on the water. "I know."
"I've been summoned to the palace. The emperor wishes to speak with me."
She turned to him, her eyes unreadable. "Will you return?"
Yu hesitated. He had walked thousands of li, faced storms and landslides, but this question unsettled him more than any danger. He reached for her hand, fingers brushing the bamboo bracelet.
"If I return," he said, "I will ask you to be my wife."
Nü Jiao smiled, a smile that held both joy and sorrow. "I will wait for you—even if the river dries and the stars fall from the sky."
They sat together until dawn, singing the river's song one last time. The melody drifted across the water, carried downstream like a promise etched into the current.
Before he left, Nü Jiao gave him a small pouch filled with river stones and herbs. "For protection," she said. "And remembrance."
Yu bowed deeply, his heart heavy but resolute. He did not know what awaited him in the palace, but he knew what he was leaving behind.
As he walked away from Jiao, the mist rose again, veiling the village in silence. The plum blossoms fell like snow, and the river continued its quiet journey—carrying with it the echo of a song and the weight of a promise.
Next Chapter Teaser:
The emperor has heard of Yu's deeds.
But in the palace, power is never given freely.
💫 Chapter 3: A Throne Paid in Loss — coming Wednesday at 6:00 PM !